


The Photograph

by introverted_kitten



Series: You Are A Hero [1]
Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: But Team Phantom make him believe in himself so it’s good, Danny blames himself for shit, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, Valerie and Phantom discuss some stuff, change of heart, idk what else to tag, they become allies or a truce idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:00:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26617111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/introverted_kitten/pseuds/introverted_kitten
Summary: “It was his past. What he had been, before. Before all this.”—Danny struggles within the pressure of ghost attacks, he isn’t a hero, not really. At least he doesn’t think so. But the photograph says otherwise. It’s the one thing that convinced him.But the Red Huntress has her grasp on it. And she’s not letting it go without questions.
Series: You Are A Hero [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1936279
Comments: 7
Kudos: 119





	1. Chapter 1

The photograph was simple. It was small and rectangular in shape, white-rimmed with dog-eared edges and frayed corners that splayed at angular directions. 

Inside the picture itself sustained an image of a young child, perhaps around five or six. He had a chipper smile towards the camera, blue eyes twinkling with a mischievous glint. A myriad of black scruffy hair amassed his head, shoved under a red and white baseball cap that was dragged down below his brow. A dishevelled raincoat (also a bright crimson) hung off his arms, gushing in the stormy wind of the tides behind him. Feeble feet gripped themselves firmly into the sand, fighting against the strong currents of wind on the beach.

Yes, it might not be much. A simple picture of a boy at the beach on a squally day - so what?

But it wasn’t the little square snapshot that held such significance, it was rather, what was worded on the back.

Calligraphy glittered the back, looping letters swirling with one another to form a modest statement. It had been added later, that was obvious. The print was neater, more vibrant.

Originally, there had just been a small date and the place of the photograph scrawled onto the back, but the newer addition of writing made it so much more.

In the top corner, faded and crumpling away with the corner, laid the stark date of 𝟹/𝟺/𝟷𝟿𝟿𝟼 ,  along with a noted orientation and a small caption.

** 𝙳𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚢’𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑! (𝙰𝚖𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝙱𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑) **

And then- what all this calamity was about. He reminisced over the lulling memories of his childhood, so excited and happy. 

Glue still remained woefully tread on the back of the square, spiderwebs of rips where it had been gently pulled from an album in some long distant past. It had originally resided within one of his sisters dusty memoirs - he’d been scanning them one day, he was still unsure why; but the photo had caught his eye, entranced him.

It was his past. What he had been, before. Before all this.

And then he’d taken it, tucked it within the dove grey belt of his hazmat suit, just to keep there. Just in case he ever needed it to aid him- to succour him. A charm, it was. A small comfort object, just like a child would find sanctuary in a stuffed toy or tag blanket- the photo provided him with it.

And his sister must’ve noticed- she’d definitely noticed, actually. Because that swirl of neat lettering cast freshly on the paper was what she’d written.

Green eyes hazed over the words once again. Sat on the sidewalk, he was hunched over, holding the photo as if it were a lifeline. Wounds dribbled green and gave tangs of pain, but he ignored as they trickled down his stomach.

Focus on the message.

𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝒶 𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑜.

𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝒶 𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑜.

Bad day, that’s what it had been. Just barely before, a ghost attack had erupted within the mall. Meanwhile, he had been at school at the time, desperately trying to fix his shattered grades.

Then he’d heard the alarms, the sirens that caterwauled more than once a day. Only a few meagre months ago, this had been fiction. And it was real. He’d gotten there, but it was already too late. Five dead amongst the massacre of the attack. And he’d managed to grasp the ghost into the Thermos, but there was nothing.

No witty banter, no rush of adrenaline after he caught a ghost. 

Just, empty.

Five were dead. And it was his fault.

No. Just focus.

𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝒶 𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑜.

The photo was even signed underneath the squiggly message, his sisters and his two best friends signatures lay there, as if it was some sort of contract verifying that he was a hero.

And he was.. well he hoped.

The town’s glares and insults didn’t go unnoticed, after all. Every piercing glare felt like an ectoblast to his core. Worst of all, his own parents. To be fair, they didn’t know who his was, but it still hurt to hear his alter ego be called nothing but vermin; at the dinner table.

Sighing, he lifted himself up onto trembling legs, treading into the air as his figure dipped up and down even so slightly. With the weight of a feather, he began zipping away from the havoc.

Danny had forgotten one thing.

* * *

  
He was being watched.

The red figure watched as he cast off into the distance. She didn’t attack, she remained, slightly disarrayed from the occurrence just moments ago.

That ghost punk had been crouched over, almost looking like he was upset. Ha! The audacity that ghost had, to cause such a grievance and have the audacity to pretend to be upset?

She knew he wasn’t. He certainly didn’t care about this town- just an act, it all was.

Her thoughts were dishevelled as the girl let her jet sled hover her to the ground, and there she stood in the vacant street, eyes scanning where the so called hero had been sitting mere moments ago.

On the floor, her eyes were intrigued by a flutter of something white- what was that?

Leaping down off the sled, which dematerialised beneath her feet, she grasped the tattered etching between her hands, before studying the white item. 

It was a photograph. Of who - she didn’t know. She didn’t recognise the young boy in the photo, dressed in sunny rouge - small cap pulled so far down his face it covered half of it, raincoat escaping in the storm behind him. Weathered and torn, the corners furled in.

There was writing on the back, she realised.

𝟹/𝟺/𝟷𝟿𝟿𝟼

  
** 𝙳𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚢’𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑! (𝙰𝚖𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝙱𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑) **

Then below that, a newer, fancier swirl of penmanship.

𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝒶 𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑜.

Along with three signatures, names, which were illegible to her at this point. It obviously meant something to someone- that was clear. If the tattered edges and glazed sheen weren’t something to go by.

Her heart strings tugged. This photo belonged to someone in Amity Park. But who? 

The young boy in the picture she didn’t recognise, or should she say - Danny, if she was going by the notes on the back of the card. His first day at Amity Beach, apparently eight years ago.

_ I hope I can find the owner.  _

* * *

Meanwhile, hours later in the fluorescent lit Fenton Works, fourteen year old Danny Fenton preened over his maths assignment for the fifteenth time that night. It was due the next morning, but he’d been too busy ghost fighting to catch up on it now.

“Oh man, it’s not meant to be this hard, is it?” The teenager said frustratedly as he scribbled out an answer, scoffing as the pencil broke.

“At least it’s takes my mind off things.” He swivelled on the desk chair, replacing the pencil with a new one. Just as he was about to set his pencil to the paper, a familiar blue wisp caught his throat.

“Oh for ghosts sake-“ he deadpanned, changing into his ghost form. “Of all times, why now?”

He hoped it wasn’t too difficult a battle. There were already wounds scarped across his chest from that afternoon. He’d been saving someone from falling debris when Skulker had come across displaying a new katana to his collection. And the addition of the ghost fight with that weird green ghost monster.

Which caused five deaths.

_ His fault. _

“Nope! No- really not the time to be thinking of that.” Teeth gritted, Danny flew intangibility through his window, out into the darkened night to seek what ghost it was.

But the night was blank with mottled stars. As he swayed around the empty sky, the half ghost could see no spectres inhabiting the sky. Great. He’d stopped doing his maths homework for what; nothing!

There was a sputter in the distance, and Danny turned his head quickly to see what it was.

The Red Huntress was on her hoverboard, eyes scanning down on the town like an eagle does their prey, bazooka perched on her shoulder. She seemed to be scouting for.. something.

_Probably me_.  Danny clenched his fists as he floated down to the roof of an abandoned store, fauna swallowing the roof whole. His feet pattered on the gables, as quietly as possible. He crouched down, not in the right mindset for a fight, hoping his black jumpsuit would merge with the darkness of the night.

“Hopefully I can just wait this out.” He muttered, peering between bangs of white hair. “Then I can get back to that stupid assignment. Don’t need any more injuries today.”

Pressing a hand to his clammy forehead, Danny breathed slowly, eyes scanning the skies. Right now he didn’t want to deal with this. Today had already been overwhelming enough, with the fight in the afternoon. The halfa just wanted to get home and get the assignment done with.

Up in the sky, Valerie Gray balanced on her hoverboard, watching over Amity Park incase any ghosts would think of invading the town. The photo was still clenched in her hand, still a complete mystery.

Then again she supposed, flying over Amity Park would do nothing. She couldn’t sulk here for the rest of the night.

Just as she was about to leave, a faint glow caught her eye, something hovering amongst the roof tops. An all too familiar black jumpsuited ghost with spiky white hair and toxic green eyes.

Instant rebuttal replaced her hopeful attitude, mindset on the photo long gone by now. 

“Ghost kid?! What’s he doing here, at this time of night? There’s no ghosts to fight.” She could see him now, plastered to the side of the building-cowering? Well, he certainly looked fed up.

“Perfect! He’s down and he’s got nothing to stop me.” Under her mask, Valerie grinned widely, and swooped down, bazooka clucking affectionately at her side. Aiming the gun right at her target and fired.

She couldn’t help but watch with the glint of a sneer as the missile fired at the ghost, who obviously wasn’t expecting it as it his him right centre in the chest. In retaliation, the ghost lunged back, weakened from the attack, hands pressed to his chest where the wound gushed. His eyes looked upwards for who had fired the missile, and froze when they met hers.

“What was that for?!” He spat, ectoplasm dribbling down his chin in a green grandeur.

_ Not for long!  _ She smirked, ready to aim the bazooka a second time. The ghost had the cheek to ask her, when all he had ever done was make her life a living hell? The ghost dog, Axion Labs, her popularity- All. His. Fault.

“What was that for?! What do you think?! You ruined my life, ghost scum!” She shouted back at him.

“It wasn’t my fault! It was all an accident. You don’t understand- the ghost dog, Cujo, he just wanted his toy back! He doesn’t even belong to me!”

“Of course you’d call it an accident. You knew exactly what you were doing!” Hissing back, Valerie surged forwards towards the ghost, fists clenched. Phantom blinked back up at her with green eyes, those venomous green she hated so.

His face was strangely calm, of course it would be- he was just faking it. Faking his emotion to innocence so that he’d turn on her later. And then she could expose him for the malevolent being he really was-

“Hey! Where did you get that?” A voice interrupted her train of thought, and Valerie looked to see the ghost pointing accusingly at her fist, where the photo lay forlornly in her palm.

“I found it this afternoon on the street.” Why was he even interested? The photo wouldn’t matter to him. “Why do you even care?”

“It belongs to me, that’s why! It means a lot to me, so I’d appreciate it back.” He held out a hand expectantly, one eyebrow raised, waiting for the photo.

She snorted. As if she’d give it to him! Possessions never meant anything to ghosts, they didn’t have emotions to hone something with sentimental value. Everyone knew that. It couldn’t belong to him, ghosts didn’t have things like photos or any possessions of that matter. In addition, the only thing she ever saw Phantom carrying was a thermos- and she was pretty sure that was a stolen Fenton Thermos. Where was the evidence? It was a picture of a young boy on a beach- nothing remotely ghostly at all.

“Prove it.”

Immeadiatly the ghosts expression fell, looking as forlorn as the photo in his palm. Green eyes flickered blearily, the creases beneath his eyes folding in frustration.His shoulders plummeted, gloved hands rubbing the back of his neck, legs tucked up to his chest. Valerie almost felt sympathetic for the pathetic display. Didn’t mean she’d believe in the false mannerisms.

“You probably just think I’m faking all of this.” Phantom said dryly, eyes flicking to the photo before they made contact with her then looked away again. “It’s not going to be long enough to talk.”

“More time to conjure up lies.” 

Phantom sighed, rubbing his face with his hand in frustration. “Look I know you don’t believe me. And I can’t really go long without carrying that photo- it’s like a moral compass I use- helps me after a battle. But if we can meet up, I don’t know-the Nasty Burger? About 5pm? Maybe I can discuss this better.”

Silently, Valerie pondered. Would it be worth it? She was free around that time, so could go and meet up with him- the thought made her queasy. Meeting up with a ghost. Her enemy. It might be- probably; was a trap. Some hasty conspiracy to get reprisal at her. He’d meet up with her, all smiles, explain some fabrications and myths, then turn on her. 

For such a powerful ghost, Phantom really was an oblivious thing. He thought he could play her into his trap. Well, two can play at that game.

“Deal.” She said, watching the emotions on his face contort to a tiny smile. Trying to drag her in, get his sympathy. She wouldn’t fall for it. She’d play along to the beat of his lies, but then afterwards.. the huntress knew she’d strike.


	2. You Are A Hero

The sky had begun to turn mauve, the brisk of dusk when she settled outside on one of the picnic benches of the Nasty Burger. Valerie checked her watch again. 5:01pm.

That wasn’t promising. He was already one minute late — and normally Valerie would understand — but what would occupy a ghost to make them late? Ghosts didn’t do anything but haunt and take dwelling in the Ghost Zone, frequently escaping to Amity Park.

That was what the teenager didn’t understand. Ghosts coming to Amity Park. They didn’t need to, everything they required to live (well- exist, she supposed) was in the Ghost Zone, the ectoplasm was there. All that was here was ghost hunters trying to hunt them. Then again, they were emotionless beings with no real sense of anything, so they came to the human realm not really expecting any different.

On a positive note, it meant more ghosts for her to hunt. There was always one she couldn’t get. Phantom. The spectre always got away, no matter what, he always absconded her clutches. 

There’d be an opportunity for that today, she supposed, as she pulled out an ectogun from her backpack, gingerly distributing it on the bench beside her. That made her wonder. Did Phantom have a lair? If so, why didn’t he just stay there? Why did he feel the need to come and play distinguished protector of Amity Park?

As Valerie pondered in her thoughts more, she glimpsed a black streak in the sky, barely a stippled fleck — like a dead fly on a car windscreen. Heading towards her.

It was Phantom, of course it was — in all his glowing grandeur, brandished smirk across his features. She braced in her seat, quickly snatching up the ectogun, just in case. The photo (which she’d brought along for some reason), crinkled in her left hand as she clenched her fists.

The ghost eventually became more detailed as he flew closer, and then Valerie realised that something wasn’t right. His eyes weren’t glowing their usual leafy green, so alive and mischievous. Instead they were pale and drab, and she swore there were a few shaded bags under his eyes. Normally his iconic HAZMAT suit, with the DP symbol that he bore so proudly, seemed to wither a fouling grey and tacky white. It practically hung off him, his lean but well toned limbs now gangly and spindling, dried ectoplasm wounds scoured on his left hip.

“Skulker got me good, huh?” Phantom attempted to joke, but fell on deaf ears. He gnawed his lip with tension as he looked at Valerie.

The latter, who was looking in disbelief at the scrawny figure. What had happened to him? There was something, a tiny glimmer of sympathy, he really did look terrible. But Valerie didn’t care about that. If he was weakened, that would mean she could capture him easily. She watched as he hovered down, practically collapsing into the picnic bench. He held his arms infront of him, resting his head in his hands.

“Not amused, ghost.” She spat, folding her arms and looking up at him intently. “Now tell me what you want to say before I launch an ectogun at you.”

“Okay! Okay!” She watched as he put his hand up in false surrender, as if it would convince her of something. “Look, that photo does belong to me. And I need it back- I guess you can see that I’ve not been the best recently.”

All the better advantage for herself, she supposed. Although it was peculiar that he seemed so obsessed over a photo. 

Wait. _Obsessed_.

Ghosts had obsessions, didn’t they? She remembered the Fenton’s mentioning something about how a ghost is tied to the real world by their obsession, and they need to fulfil that obsession. Like the Box Ghost with boxes.

But it didn’t really seem like Phantom had a set obsession — in fact if she looked at it closer — it even seemed like Phantom had a fully fledged personality. She knew he was different from the other ghosts, an enigma within them. Ghosts regularly fought, that was normal for their being, but when they fought Phantom, it seemed different. Like they were scorning him for even existing. 

At first when she’d fought him, he’d seemed like any normal ghost, launching the ghost dog at her and ruining her life, forcing her out of popularity. Cocky and thrown out some attempts at banter which had fallen short, really just like any other common ghost, malevolent and plotting. 

Pondering, maybe his obsession was fighting. But he’d shown a plethora of different interests, like when she had caught him beaming up at the stars, labelling the constellations. It was creepily familiar. Or she’d sworn she’d glimpsed him playing on the arcade games a few times.

“Is that why you want it? Because it’s your obsession? I thought ghosts didn’t have possessions.”

Suddenly, Phantom gave a sharp glare, one eyebrow raised shrewdly. “It’s rude to ask a ghost about their obsession, I would’ve thought you; Almighty-Red-Huntress-with-all-knowledge-of-ghosts- would’ve known that.”

No. She didn’t know that, quite frankly because ghosts didn’t have emotions, according to the Fenton’s, so how would they find it rude? Still, she did feel a smidge bad for asking him so straightforwardly. “Alright then. Then why is this photo so important to you? I don’t get it.”

Phantom paused, eyes flicking downwards, as he thought of an excuse to spruce up, or so she presumed. His hands knitted together on the tableas he contemplated, then shook his head.

“Well?” Valerie asked.

The ghost took a hold of the card menu at the edge of the table, and began fanning it around rapidly, eyes darting at the writing.

“Well what do y’know, the prices have gone up since I was last here..” He muttered, and Valerie felt herself clench in frustration. “Phantom hotspot? Well I knew I was somewhat famous, but didn’t think I’d end up on the Nasty Burger menu.” Preening the menu, the ghost boy took a quick glance at Valerie.

He was avoiding the question, not surprising really, ghosts were natural liars and excellent at deception. Maybe this was a ploy to pull her in. No matter what, Phantom obviously did not want to answer her question.

“Stop it Phantom. It’s so obvious you’re avoiding my question.”

The menu dropped onto the wood with a clank, and Phantom stared back up at her, his mouth parted slightly in surprise. Then he brought his arm to run at the back of his neck, a weirdly familiar gesture.

“Look, it’s kinda awkward for me to talk about alright? I know.. well I guess you’re thinking — how does he even have a connection with that photo? It’s not ghostly, and it relates nothing to me.”

“Go on.” She egged on as he paused, keen to find out more.

“Well. That’s me in that picture.”

Her jaw dropped.

That was him?! But.. but it didn’t even look anything like him. No white hair, just a kid dressed in red, who was a six year old. She was sure Phantom was at least her age, maybe a little older.

“How is that you?! It- it doesn’t even look like you! They have dark hair, you have white hair and green eyes!”

“I’m very well aware of my appearance thank you very much.” He shot back sarcastically. “Check the date on the back.”

There he went again, not directly answering, being deliberately ambiguous. But it was something, this time. He wanted her to figure it out herself.

Lifting up the small scrap in her hand, she turned the photo to the card side and set it on the table. Phantom’s hands trailed across the table, gesturing to the small scrawl at the top.

“3rd April 1996. What’s so important about that?”

He facepalmed. “What do you think?! How old is this photo?”

“Eight years.” She responded, still in confusion. The teenager still didn’t get what the ghost was trying to say. Eight years ago, so what?

“How old is the boy in the photo?”

“How am I meant to know exactly that?!”

“You know what I mean — how old do you think he looks?”

“Around five or six, I don’t know. Why are you asking me this?”

Clasping the photo in both hands, Valerie examined it, her eyebrows furrowed in deep thought. Seriously. She came here to talk with Phantom, not be bamboozled. All of a sudden, a cold touch scarped her chin gently, and she stared forward to see Phantom holding her chin in his hand, head tilted to look at him.

Almost instantly, Valerie snapped back, anger filling her as she dropped the photo on the floor; forgotten. 

This was it! This whole time! 

Confuse her enough to finally have her in his grasp! 

She swatted his hand away, which he grabbed in retaliation, a forlorn look upon his features.

“Don’t you dare touch me ghost!” Fury shook her voice as her right hand reached for an ectogun, the familiar whirring in her hand, and firing a blast to the left of Phantom.

“Woah! No! No! I wasn’t doing anything- I was trying to show you!” 

“Show me what?” She seethed, anger burning like a fire.

“How old do you think I am?” Phantom settled back in the chair, both arms folded infront of him.

“What is it with these stupid pointless questions?!”

“Just answer it.” 

She paused, taking in Phantom’s features. His messy pebble grey hair that hung over his forehead, slender and willowy body, wide owlish and childish eyes, cheeks that were thinner but also still had some chubbiness to them.

“Fourteen? Fifteen? Around my age I suppose.”

“Exactly.” He nodded, a smile becoming prominent. Phantom pointed at the date once more. “If that was eight years ago, and the boy there was six, how old would he be now?”

“Fourteen..  _ oh _ —”

Then everything came rushing to her. Oh no. She’d fucked up. Big time. 

Examining the photo a second time, Valerie felt her heart sink. Even though she hated ghosts with every bit of her being, and yes, she might hunt Phantom within an inch of his afterlife — but she was not so cruel to take a ghosts only remnant of their past life.

Because it was clear what the photo was now. Phantom, or rather Danny, as a child. An innocent little kid. He had a life.

That was kind of strange to think. She couldn’t not imagine Phantom _not_ flying around, fighting ghosts and making snide remarks. But maybe there had been a time before, when he was just a normal kid, like her (before she became a ghost hunter, anyway).

How had he died? What was his life like? Maybe he even lived in Amity Park. The ghost must’ve died recently, if the years added up, he would be fourteen and still was fourteen.

Now, she could imagine him when he was alive, dark tufted hair hanging over his brow, diamond blue eyes full of curiosity. Envisioning a scene, a family picnic, mom and a dad, and with Danielle. Maybe he had more siblings, she didn’t know.

If he lived in Amity Park.. had Phantom attended Casper High at some point? No one had been mentioned dying.

But that made it worse. Oh crud. That meant someone at Caspar High had died and no one was even aware. A teenager.

No one seemed to bat an eyelid either, at how young Phantom was, or his backstory. Just another ghost in their eyes.

“Yeah.” Phantom whispered finally, eyes hazy. “That’s me from when I was alive. Hurt a lot, y’know? Dying, I mean. Then I became  _this_ ,  and well, well I was a mess. I became something my parents hated. A ghost. And I didn’t know what to do, because oh gosh- I was dead. I didn’t tell anyone. No one knows. Except my sister.”

“Danielle?” She prompted. Those two had to be siblings.

She was surprised when Phantom shook his head. 

“No. When I was alive, I had two sisters. My older sister, and Danielle. Sucks being the only son, I think. She saw me, well and recognised me, although didn’t even tell me. I ruined everything. Everything just went downhill. Everyone probably just though- I don’t know- that I was a delinquent, a rebel? Of course, no one even knew what happened to me. My sister says she’s fine, because she’s like the support beam of us all. But she’s not, I know. She though I was troubled and I left her, only for her to find out her only brother is dead.”

There was a mulled silence as Valerie thought over, glancing at the photo enclosed in her palm. And for the first time that night, she smiled.

“I think this belong to you.”

Joy lit up instantly across his features, eyes brightening and stance hopping in joy as he swooped up the photo. Valerie chuckled a little at his antics.

“Thank you-thank you-thank you! Oh my gosh Val- thank you!” In turn, Phantom turned around, face sparkling with pure joy.

“No problem.” She remarked casually, as Phantom let off a mock salute, prepared to fly away.

“And _Danny_?” He turned to the call.

“You are a hero.”

* * *

Both went home that night with a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that’s the end of this two-shot! I hope you enjoyed, I really liked writing this one.
> 
> There will be a follow up one shot of this, so keep an eye out for that.

**Author's Note:**

> This was honestly a completely random concept that came to my head that I decided to write. It’ll only be a short multi chapter fic I think, with perhaps a follow up afterwards.


End file.
